


Happy Now?

by tabt_solskin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Blood, Confusion, Crime Fighting, Death, Fear, Feels, Guns, Hurt No Comfort, Knives, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, No Plot/Plotless, Plot Twists, Project Freelancer, Sibling Rivalry, Some Plot, Tags Are Hard, Teamwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:27:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7421716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabt_solskin/pseuds/tabt_solskin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was supposed to be a simple mission. But they should all know by now that there's no such thing as simple missions in Project Freelancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Now?

**Author's Note:**

> On phone

It was supposed to be a normal mission. None of this was supposed to happen. None of it. They were just supposed to clear out their enemies base. Kill everyone there, blow it all up.

Not this. Never this.

Florida and Wyoming were holed up in a corner, Florida was bleeding out from multiple bullet wounds. And yet, he was still smiling all the same. Wyoming was whispering comforting words, telling him it'll be alright. Although, they both know that's not true.

Carolina, Wash, South, and Maine were still fighting. Slowly, but surely. Tex was fighting as well, just faster. And better. The mission had to be completed somehow.

York was behind a wall, trying to reload his weapon with shaky hands. It was bad enough he could only see out of one eye, but he was scared. He's never been scared on a mission, especially one that was supposed to be so simple. Yet, it was messed up in every way possible.

North was moving closer to the fight, not being able to use his sniper far away because everything was happening too quickly. Although he wasn't the best in close combat, he had to do something.

On his way down, he catches a glimpse of South helping Wash and he smiles beneath his helmet. He's glad his sister is helping his boyfriend, he's glad she accepts him. It made things much easier.

When he gets to the fight, he shoots a few people who are giving Maine trouble. The larger Freelancer growls in appreciation, he nods, knowing there was no reason to speak.

Looking around the battle, he kills anyone that makes his teammates struggle. Like hell he was going to let them fight these people without help, like hell he was going to let them die.

And just like that, as if the thought of death brought it, there was a scream. Not a battle cry, oh no. Much worse. The force of pain in the scream made North's skin chill, it sounded familiar.

Roaming his eyes around the fight his eyes land on an armored figure slowly dropping to their knees. Wash. It was Wash who screamed. There was a knife being ripped out of his stomach, North could feel the blood rush out of his face.

Rushing over to the hurt man, he picks him up carefully so he doesn't disturb the wound. No, this couldn't be happening. This cannot be happening.

He sets the Freelancer down on his back in front of a crate, far enough to be away from the mess of fighting, but close enough so if something happened, he'd be able to help.

North glares at blood pouring out of his boyfriend's stomach. The wound was messy, the person handling the knife obviously was just waving the knife around hoping it would hit someone. But it was also planned out perfectly, in a way. Wash wouldn't have noticed if the person was behind him, moving their arm to stab his torso where the wound is.

But that didn't make sense. South was behind the blonde man, helping him. His sister would've been able to see the sharp object and the owner, his sister would've kicked the knife away and shot the person dead.

It just… Didn't make sense.

Pushing his hands on the wound gently but firmly, he let's out a large exhale of breath. This isn't supposed to be happening.

“David, honey, c’mon. Stay awake for me. You have to stay awake.” North orders softly, his bottom lip wavers under his helmet. He wish he had taken it off earlier, he feels like he can't breathe.

“I'm… It hu-hurts.” Wash gasps, gripping at North's armored forearms. The purple soldier let's out a short breath, ignoring the tears welling in his eyes.

“I know baby. Trust me, I know. But you gotta try to pull through, okay? You'll be okay. It'll be fine. You just have to stay awake and everything will be perfect.” He's not sure whether he's trying to convince Washington or himself, it was happening all too quickly. He feels as if he wanted to scream.

“Sh-shh, North. It's… It's okay… G-go help the others…” Wash croaks softly, trying to push the larger man away. North frowns. Like hell he's leaving, like fucking hell.

“Now you listen here Agent Washington. I'm not leaving you. Not ever. Especially not like this. So shut your mouth.” His voice cracks at the end, he doesn't want Wash to shut his mouth. He wants to hear Wash squeak and moan and never stop talking, never stop being who he is.

Washington laughs at his words, it's a broken raspy sound. North hates it with every fiber in his body. His lover should never sound that way. His lover should sound vibrant and full of life. That sound was the complete opposite.

“Marry me,” He pleads, tears are pouring out of his eyes so much he can barely see. But that doesn't matter. What matters is David. “Please. I love you so much. I can't have you leave. You're my light, my soul, my life. You're my stardust. Please David, please. Marry me. I can make you so happy. You're the ocean, and I am so desperate to drown.”

Washington's breath had quickened dramatically. It was a wheezing sound, like he was struggling to inhale. It scared North.

North sniffles, staring at the other Freelancer with hope full in his eyes. He really wishes they weren't wearing helmets. No, what he really wishes for was a different situation.

He wishes things were different. He wishes they weren't in Project Freelancer. He wishes he was proposing under a different circumstance.

He wishes a lot of things, a lot of things that could never happen.

Biting his lip, he stares at Washington's helmet. Just because he couldn't see his face didn't mean anything, and the younger man could nod or… Shake his head. Hopefully not the latter, but North tried to keep an open mind. He would respect the other Freelancer's decision. Even if it broke him.

After a moment of staring at the unmoving helmet in worry, something hits him. Washington was unnaturally still.

Panicking, the larger Freelancer shakes the smaller mans shoulder while making sure one hand was still pressed on his wound. Wash didn't make a sound.

“No. No, this can't be-no.” North mutters, shaking the gray and yellow soldier with both hands now. Wash is alive. He has to be!

“C’mon, Washington… Wake up. Wake up already, David. Dammit, wake up!” He's sobbing now, ripping his helmet off and throwing it away like it offended him.

His hands were shaking, and he was struggling to pull off Wash's helmet. He had to see his face, had to see if he was breathing. Finally getting it off, he rolls it away and stares at the face he loves oh so much.

He stares at the bags under his lover's eyes, the freckles covering his pale skin, his bleach blonde almost white hair, the blood covering his lips when he was struggling to breath. He stared at his Washington.

But his Washington didn't look like this. No, his Washington couldn't look like this.

His Washington wasn't that tired, his skin was never that white, his hair was never that close to gray, he's not supposed to be bleeding. No, this couldn't ever be his Washington.

But it could be.

He was so busy with… Everything else, he hasn't had time for his boyfriend. And now that he's dead he won't ever have time for him.

“Dammit, no! Why? What did I do to deserve this?!” He screams, yells, punches the ground. Why wasn't he allowed to be happy? Why couldn't he just be happy?

Hovering over the younger man, wailing in grief. It shouldn't have been Wash. Its should've been anyone but Wash.

“Yes, North. I'll marry you.” The voice comes after North is done screaming into an unmoving armored chest, it's a voice that sounds exactly like Washington’s.

Raising his head, he stares at the love of his life. Shaking him hopefully, he wipes his tears off of his face. Wash was alive?!

“Da-David?” He questions, the freckled man doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Swallowing his grief, he hears something behind him and turns slowly.

He's staring at the ground, not trusting himself to look up just yet. He's greeted with the sight of purple and green armor. His sister is behind him.

His sister was the one using Washington's voice, his sister. She must be standing here for comfort, his brain supplies. Slowly looking up, he comes face to face with the barrel of South's gun.

There's yelling, it must be the other Freelancers. He thinks they're yelling at South. But his entire focus is on South's finger on the trigger. He hears footsteps, but he continues focusing on South's finger and how quick it moves to pull the trigger.

And then, darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a friend cuz they wanted a Northington marriage proposal. They never said it couldn't be angst “ψ(｀∇´)ψ
> 
> What is plot tho oops :/
> 
> Thoughts?


End file.
